Some Character Detail and City Descriptions

A light breeze blows and tickles my chin. It’s getting cooler out. I look out over the horizon and see the sun is already being swallowed by the Earth’s edge. Grabbing my leather jacket that I had earlier thrown onto the ground, I turn and start walking towards the city, putting on my jacket as I go. My golden brown hair lightly caresses the collar of my jacket. It is starting to grow out, last I had noticed, it had been chin length.  

I kick at the dirt on the ground beneath weather-worn combat boots, the dust flying up around me caught in the ever quickening breeze. My sand goggles remain atop my head and I realize that if this wind picks up even more before I get home, I may have to use them. A small flashlight and flair gun sway on my belt around my hips as I walk. I look to my jeans and see that they are more worn out than my boots. The wind teases the old and newly formed holes in my jeans and threatens to pull the seams apart. I feel tiny grains of sand against my exposed skin on my legs and face. I reach up and slide the goggles down over my eyes before it gets worse out. The last thing I want is grains of sand stuck in my eyes. Not pleasant.

I pick up my pace as I reach the outskirts of the city, the buildings becoming more visible with each step. The houses are all made from the foundations from an old city. The attempts that were made to make the city look new failed miserably. Northern Pass lacks the funds and therefore we pay the price by having to use old cement blocks and bricks for walls, and for those who can’t afford it, use scrap metal for doors. Glass is rare, and many people took scavenged pieces of glass and melted it down to make windows. The result is yellow-brown windows that you can’t see out of, and very little light is let in. My house is one of the nicer houses. My mother married wealthy, or wealthy enough that we could afford windows that may be yellow, but they had the ability to open so we could get fresh air into the house. The best part about our house is that we are attached to the electrical system that runs through the city. There are only a few dozen houses that have this luxury. We can have a total of two lights on at once, any more and their light fades so much that they don’t even make a difference in brightness, even in the tiniest of rooms.We could get more power if the city didn't spend so much of it for the gates and other areas that "concern our safety" as the mayor put it.  As for water, we have a natural hot spring located underneath the city that everyone gets hot water from. The cold water comes from the nearby lake which has to be filtered and cleaned. Mother boils that water and lets it cool before she drinks it. My father always joked that she was paranoid. I've seen the way they filter the water here, and I'd say my father was right because they do a good job keeping our water clean. Father said that in the Ancient Days, the cities had huge systems to clean the water, and that the cities had so much light, that you could see some of them from space. The city now seems so old and tired, merely the phantom of a great city that once was. Northern Pass may be the remains of an old city that existed before the New World, but it does have one thing it can be proud of. The fences and barricades are new, keeping the dangerous animals and unwanted people out. The one area that Northern Pass has spent most of its people’s money on.  

I reach the outer gate of the city and am greeted by two night patrols who are on guard for anyone who does not have a pass into the city or papers to that will let them through.
“Pass or papers, please.” The man who spoke was tall and dark, his features barely visible in the dwindling light. From his voice he sounded tired and bored, and was probably nearing the end of his shift. I shove my hand into the small bag that I keep attached to the side of my belt that carry keys and my crumpled, overused pass. I grab the pass and hand it to the man. He smooths it out and gives me a quick one-over. He glances at the picture on the pass, and then at me again. “Iryssia Velde?” I nod my head and give him a quick smile, bouncing on my feet and folding my arms around my chest as the cold breeze begins to creep beneath my jacket. He eyes me one last time before handing my pass back to me. The patrol that is standing beside him turns and heads toward the entrance of the gate. He pulls a small card out of his pant pocket and swipes it in front of a tiny red light that is located where you would normally expect to see a key hole. The gate beeps, and I hear a  faint click. The patrol men both grab one gate and swing them open wide enough for me to walk through. I shove my pass into my belt bag and walk quickly through, the doors closing behind me with another faint click.